Nothing is Ever Just Black and White
by Spirit of the Night Owl
Summary: Harry wants to run away from life and Draco's been on the run for a couple years. Then someone curses Draco into another form. Meow! And Harry thinks he's just too too cute!
1. Part 1

**Nothing is Ever Just Black and White**

Recently read a cute cat fic and felt like writing one too...so I spent yesterday coming up with this. Hope it's not too crazy. And, as much as I'm usually a stickler for spelling and grammar and all that important stuff, I just wanted to get this up and posted, so I didn't do much in the way of editing. You are welcome to point out mistakes...or not. *wink* And I think my timeline is a bit wonky, but...not fixing it. Sorry. Enjoy!

**Synopsis: **Harry wants to run away from life and Draco's been on the run for a couple years. Then someone curses Draco into another form. Meow! And Harry thinks he's just too too cute!

**Warning: **A little bit of wanking. Some petting. A smidgen of talk of cats' mating practices. And a good old...er...never mind! *snicker*

* * *

**Chapter One**

"No, Hermione!" cried Harry. "Don't you understand...I don't want to do this anymore?"

"But, Harry," the woman said, tears streaming down her face, "we love you. We'll worry if you just take off and don't talk to us."

Harry ran a hand through his messy black hair and sighed. "I know you will, but...I _need_ to do this. I have to leave."

Letting out a sob, Hermione Granger turned and buried her tear-stained face in her boyfriend's shoulder.

"Without giving specifics, because I know you can't...or don't want to...where will you go?" Ron asked his best friend of nine years.

Harry shrugged. "Away from here," he said. "Away from all the nightmares."

Ron shook his head. "The nightmares won't disappear just because you leave this place, mate. You know you need to get help for that."

"I've _tried_ that, Ron!" Harry bellowed—then sighed because his outburst caused Hermione to startle then heave another sob. "I've tried," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Drinking a bottle of Firewhisky and passing out every day isn't therapy, mate," Ron argued. "But...whatever. You're going to do whatever you want...just like you always do."

Harry frowned. "That's not fair, Ron."

"I'm calling it like I see it," the red-haired man said, shrugging.

"Would you at least...check in?" Hermione said, turning from her boyfriend to face their friend.

"I'll try."

"Like you've tried to get rid of the nightmares?" Ron threw out angrily, making Harry flinch.

"I said I'd try," Harry whispered.

"Yeah. Okay, mate. I guess we'll see you when we see you, huh?" Ron said sarcastically. Then rolling his eyes, he turned and walked off.

Staring at his friends—Ron's retreating back and Hermione's pleading face—Harry's eyes filled with tears. He didn't know what to say to them and they certainly weren't making this very easy on him, but...he _needed_ to leave or he just might burst.

"What can I do?" he asked his friend.

"Stay," she begged.

Frowning, Harry shook his head. "I can't do that."

Hermione bit her lip. "Check in...at least once a month."

"Once every six months."

"You're going to be gone _that_ long?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. Might."

"Three months," she said, trying to bargain.

Harry tried to smile. It reached his lips, but not his eyes; there was no sparkle in them. "I'll try."

Sighing, Hermione threw her arms around her long-time friend and sobbed into his chest. "I'm going to miss you, Harry," she cried.

Harry wrapped his arms around her too and squeezed. "I'll miss you too, Hermione," he said—and it was true. "Ron too. But I need to do this or I might just go mad."

She nodded. "Would you, _please_, for me, drink less."

Harry chuckled. "Sure. I'll cut it down to a bottle a week."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, _that's_ something, I guess...considering you were consuming one every _day_."

Giving the woman another squeeze, Harry then moved to separate himself from her. She held on for a moment—as if he'd be gone the moment she let go—then she sighed and backed off.

"Three months?"

"Five."

She shook her head. "Four."

"I'll try."

Nodding, because she knew Harry enough to know he was giving her all that he could, Hermione blinked back her tears and put on the best face she could. "I love you, Harry."

"I know. I love you too," he said. "Give Ron a hug from me."

Hermione nodded again. "I will. Don't forget to check in."

"Right. Four-ish months."

She sighed. "Bye Harry."

And then he was gone.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

For two years Draco had been on the run. Not because he was wanted for war crimes or anything. No, he'd been acquitted of his youthful mistakes—horrendous though they were—immediately following the war. As had both his parents...even though he didn't think his father deserved it. His mother, maybe, but..._not_ Lucius Malfoy, who was still known to rant about his disgust for Muggles and Muggleborns.

But who was _he_ to judge? Draco knew he shouldn't be the judge of anything. Least of all his father, who sat safe and sound at Malfoy Manor while Draco ran about, hiding from those who wanted to get him, but otherwise free. For a while he'd rented a room over a shop on Diagon Alley. The shop owner sympathized with his plight. She was kind and motherly—much more so than Draco's own mother, not that Narcissa Malfoy was so horrible.

But then there was trouble. He was constantly being harassed by witches and wizards on the streets—even hexed on occasion. Part of him thought he deserved it, so he did nothing about it.

Then there was the night he was beaten up. He never saw it coming. He was walking back to his place after a few drinks and a meal at the Leaky Cauldron and _BAM_! someone hit him with something—some sort of curse, he now knew—and, while he was down, the person came over and kicked him a few times. It was dark and he'd been drinking, so he couldn't make out who it was, but it was painful. He'd lain there for a time, then dragged himself up and stumbled home to sleep it off.

But in the morning he was awoken by banging on his door. It was the shop owner and she was not pleased.

"You have to go, Draco," she'd told him. "You know I like you and want you here, but...business is suffering because you're here and...now someone's vandalized my storefront."

Sighing, Draco nodded. "I understand, Madam Chaffe. If you'll give me an hour, I'll gather my things and be out."

The woman smiled at him sympathetically, then turned and left. Closing the door, Draco glanced around the room. There really wasn't much of his there. Some clothing and a knickknack or two, but mostly everything belonged to Madam Chaffe.

Pulling out a small satchel, Draco opened the chest of drawers and started transferring his clothing to his bag. Then, finishing quickly, he zipped it closed. Turning, the blond sat on the bed and looked around. The room was small, but comfortable...and he'd liked being there despite the fact that it was, by far, less than what he'd grown up with.

With a sigh, Draco stood up and headed for the door. Downstairs in the shop, he thanked Madam Chaffe for her generosity and bid her farewell, then walked out. He intended to go to the Leaky Cauldron for some food—and to consider his options—but that's where things got weird. One moment he was walking down Diagon Alley and the next he was..._crawling around on all fours_? It took him some time to figure out what was wrong. Different. He'd turned into a _cat_!

Draco didn't even _like_ cats. They made him sneeze. And now he was a cat himself.

Looking at his satchel, which was now too heavy for him to carry—or even move an inch—Draco glanced around. Diagon Alley was fairly busy already. Witches and wizards were hustling all over the place even though it was quite early in the morning, but not one of them seemed to pay him any mind.

_How could it be that no one noticed a man vanish and, in his place, now stands a cat?!_ Draco wondered, watching the people move about.

And then he was almost stepped on. This caused him to hiss and dart off down the street—leaving his bag, because he had no choice.

"Oh mummy, look at the pretty white cat," Draco heard a little girl say as he scampered by.

_Scampered_? he thought, snorting mentally. _Malfoys do_ not _scamper_.

And then a shop door opened right in front of him and he had to swerve to avert it or get hit in the face.

"Shoo cat!" a man brandishing a broom and taking a swipe at Draco snarled as he came out of the shop.

"Oh Edmund, leave the poor cat alone," came a woman's voice from inside.

Draco didn't stop though. He ran down the alley and toward where he knew the Leaky Cauldron to be. But when he got there, he didn't know what to do. Without his wand—wherever it now was—he had no way of getting through the wall and into the pub.

_Shite!_ he silently cursed—then cursed some more when he realized the only sound he made was an aggravated-sounding meow. _That's just bloody, fucking lovely!_

Glancing around, Draco decided he'd have to wait for someone to open the passageway for him—then he noticed his reflection in the window of the cauldron shop and became totally distracted. Walking over to it, Draco lifted a hand—a paw—and touched the glass, then put it back on the ground as he examined himself. White hair—fur—exactly the same color that his hair had been. Gray eyes...also exactly the same. Turning around, he looked at his body. He was thin—he'd always been slender—but he looked good.

_I_ am _a pretty cat_, he told himself, lifting his paw again and licking it. He wasn't sure _why_ he licked it, but it seemed like the thing to do. Sitting down, Draco starting to preen himself. _Ooo, that feels nice and...look at me!_

Again he was staring at himself in the window, his tail whipping back and forth with pleasure. For the moment he'd forgotten about needing to get out of Diagon Alley. That is, until a couple of witches stepped through from the Leaky Cauldron, bringing Draco out of his self-absorbed musings. Quickly, he shot through the opening and into the dark pub, proud of himself for finding a way to get where he wanted to go—even if he didn't really _know_ where he wanted to go.

But it turned out to be quite some time before he managed to get himself back out of the Leaky Cauldron and onto the streets of London.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Harry'd been walking the streets of London all day. He might have left the Burrow that morning—Disapparating away from his life there—but he didn't really have any sort of plan. All he knew was that he couldn't stay with his friends. He loved them dearly and would miss them, but...they reminded him too much of what they'd all lost. He'd _needed_ to get out.

And so he'd walked. He walked until his legs were tired and then he found a bench and sat down—then he got up and walked some more. Around noon he'd wandered into a Muggle store and purchased a loaf of bread, then went to a park to feed the ducks. It was relaxing, but it only took a few minutes and then he didn't know what to do with himself again. Sighing, he got up and started walking again.

An hour later he found himself standing in front of the Leaky Cauldron. Shrugging, Harry reached out and grabbed the door handle and went inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but he could tell it wasn't very busy before they had. The hum of patrons inside was low, telling him the lunch crowd had already dispersed.

"Good," he mumbled as he walked in and took a table in the back of the room.

"What can I get... Oh! Mr. Potter. Hello," the barmaid said dumbly.

Pursing his lips, Harry nodded. "Hello," he responded. Then, when the witch just stared at him, he went on. "Look, I'd rather no one know I'm here. Would you mind not mentioning that you saw me?"

Her eyes round as saucers, the woman shook her head. "Oh no, I don't mind. I won't say a word, Mr. Potter," she whispered. "What can I get you?"

"Um. Just...a Firewhisky, I think."

Smiling, the witch hurried off.

Leaning forward, Harry put his head on the cool wooden table and closed his eyes. He needed to figure out what he was going to do, but nothing was coming to mind. His head was still on the table when his server returned.

"Brought you today's special too, Mr. Potter," she said as she set his glass and plate on the table. "You look dreadful, if you don't mind me saying."

Sitting up, Harry shrugged. "I look like shite. I know."

She laughed. "I wouldn't go _that_ far," she said. "Just—"

"Dreadful?" he finished for her, causing her to blush.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that to a customer," she apologized. "I'm always doing that. I don't mean to be rude."

Harry shrugged again. "No worries. If you keep it a secret that you saw me here, then I promise not to tell anyone you were rude."

She grinned. "It's a deal."

"So, any rooms available?" he asked after taking a sip of his drink.

Nodding, she said, "Quite a few, actually. We've been mostly empty for days."

"Great. I'll take a room for tonight."

"I'll get that ready for you, Mr. Potter. Enjoy your meal and...mum's the word."

Smiling at her, Harry looked down at his food and picked at it. Food wasn't really a top priority for him. Never really had been. Instead, he picked up his drink and took a hefty swig, then lowered his glass to the table again. Looking at his plate, he sighed—knowing he _should_ eat, or, Merlin forbid, Hermione might just appear and scold him—Harry glanced up and noticed a snow white cat weaving its way around the barroom. It appeared to be full grown...and in good shape, so not a stray...but it looked confused. It went from table to table, hiding underneath, then darted for the door when it opened. But, whoever it was that came in shut the heavy door too quickly, forcing the cat to take refuge under another table.

"Hello pretty cat," Harry said as he reached down and scooped the creature up. "Are you trying to get out of here?"

The cat meowed—quite loudly—as if answering him, then batted at his face, hitting his nose gently.

"You hungry?" he asked, obviously not expecting an answer. Reaching out, he picked up a small piece of meat from his plate and offered it to the gray-eyed feline. "You _are_ hungry," he concluded when the morsel was quickly snatched up and gobbled down.

"Oh. Sorry about that cat, Mr. Potter," the waitress said as she rushed up to him. "I've been trying to catch him all day, but he keeps getting away from me."

"It's all right," said Harry, holding out another bit of meat. "He's so pretty. Who does he belong to?"

She shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I noticed him a few hours ago and tried to catch him, but he's an elusive little bugger. Then the lunch crowd came in and I was busy. I thought maybe he'd finally gotten out. Until now. Here," she said, holding out her hands, "I'll put him out."

Frowning, Harry shook his head. "Naw, it's okay. He's just hungry. Is it okay if he stays?"

"Sure. The Leaky Cauldron's always been pet friendly."

Harry grinned. "I remember. I used to stay here before school started each year. You know what, I think I'll take my food up to my room...and another drink."

The woman nodded. "Right. Here's your room key," she said, handing it to him.

"Thanks," he said to her—then looked at the cat that was just standing there waiting for more food. "Come on white kitty, if you want more supper." Getting up, plate and glass in hand, Harry headed toward the wooden stairs that led up and to the rooms.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Draco'd been reluctant to take food from Potter, but...well, he _was_ hungry and it wasn't like Potter _knew_ it was him. But then the man got up and started away. Draco hadn't been listening to the conversation The Boy Who Lived was having with Mirabel—the waitress, whom Draco knew because he'd been dining at the Leaky Cauldron on most days—but suddenly Potter was leaving. Where was he going? Or, more importantly, where was the food going? Then Draco realized the messy-haired man was going upstairs.

Frowning—or doing something similar in a cat-like way—Draco watched him go. He was torn. He already seemed to be trapped in the inn and he'd be doubly trapped if he got himself locked inside Potter's room.

_Potter. Why'd it have to be _Potter_? Just my luck!_ Draco thought as he jumped off the table and followed the man to the stairs.

At the top of the stairs, Potter went into a room and put his belongings on the floor, then flopped down on the bed in a completely undignified way. Draco would have loved to snort—which was also undignified, but never mind that—but cats were apparently incapable of that sound.

"Come on in little white kitty," the dark-haired man called from his back on the bed.

Watching from the doorway, Draco meowed. He was thinking, _Fuck you, Potter_, but clearly the idiot didn't understand cat.

Then the idiot rolled over and patted the bed. "Come on, hungry kitty. You can have my food, because I don't want it." With that, Potter picked up his glass and took a gulp, then frowned. "I forgot to stop at the bar and get more to drink," he said as he watched me enter the room and jump up onto the bed. Standing, Potter walked out the door, closing me into his room.

He was back in a gif though, a bottle of Firewhisky in hand and already had it open. Draco was starting to think his ex-classmate was a drunk. But Draco didn't care. Didn't give a flying fuck _what_ Potter did, so long as he fed him this night.

"Well, you enjoy your meal, pretty kitty," Potter said as he reached out and roughed the fur on the top of Draco's head. This caused Draco to hiss at the idiot, but the hissing only made the fucker laugh.

"You're cute," the idiot said.

Draco wished he could scratch Potter's eyes out, but...it isn't wise to bite the hand that feeds you...so to speak. Instead, he kitty-glared at the man...until Potter's hand went to his fly and started to remove his trousers.

_What_ the fuck _are you doing, Potter?_ meowed Draco.

But he didn't stop watching as the man removed every stitch of his clothing, then stood there stark bollock naked in front of him.

"Gonna shower, pretty kitty," Potter said, completely unconcerned with his nudity as he reached out and petted Draco's head again. "You stay here now, you hear?"

If Draco could have rolled his eyes—the way he used to—then he would have. _Where the fuck do you think I'm going, Potter? You've bloody well locked me in!_ Draco snapped mentally.

While Potter showered, Draco dug into his food. Whatever it was, it was good and he didn't know when or where his next meal would be, so he decided to accept Potter's handout—this time—and enjoy it.

And it sounded like Potter was enjoying himself in the shower too. He sang for a bit. And horribly too. But the drink obviously made him feel like it was okay to subject others to his terrible voice. Then he stopped singing for a second and Draco decided he must be further intoxicating himself, because he heard the bottle being set down again—and then the singing resumed.

And then moaning.

_Lovely! Potter's having a wank and I can't even watch_, Draco thought, sending a cat-glare at the closed door.

Potter's masturbation session in the shower seemed to go on for quite some time, then finally—obviously—he came with a groan and a shout of "_Fuck_ yeah!" which made Draco wish he could take his own cock in hand and rub one out.

But he couldn't, so he just lay there waiting for Potter to immerge from the loo. Which he did...looking thoroughly debauched and at peace. And completely pissed.

"Hi pritty kitty," the idiot slurred as he walked, soaking wet and dripping, into the room. Without drying off, he yanked on a pair of sleeping pants and dropped onto the bed, jostling Draco, then grabbing him up and pulling him into his arms.

Cuddling him close and stroking him along his spine, Potter talked to him. "Who do you belong to, little gray eyes?" he asked.

_No one, you git!_ Draco meowed, obviously without Potter's understanding. Then he froze when the green-eyed prat planted his lips on the top of Draco's cat head and kissed him.

"Wish I could keep you, but...I don't even know what the fuck _I'm_ doing after today," Saint Potter said. After that, the drunken man rolled to his back and closed his eyes.

For a time, Draco watched Potter sleep. He was completely at peace now and, without his stupid-looking glasses, he looked _much_ younger. Wondering where said glasses were, Draco glanced around the room and found them on the night table. He wished he could throw the hideous things out the window, but obviously he couldn't in his condition.

Looking back at the sleeping man, Draco noticed that Potter's flaccid cock was just barely peeking out of his pants. Curious, Draco got up and crept stealthily up to it, then reached out a paw and batted it gently, causing it to slip completely through the open slit—making Potter moan. Draco pulled back his paw, but, after another minute, with Potter not moving a muscle, Draco bucked up the courage and did it again. No sound or movement from the exposed man made Draco do it again. This time Potter's cock did move...a little bit. It twitched. And this caused Draco to make a happy cat noise. Leaning in, Draco pushed his face onto Potter's exposed member. It was filling and this made Draco cat even more happy. At this point he wasn't even thinking that this was _Harry Potter_ he was nuzzling.

Then a bead of moisture appeared at the tip of Potter's cock and Draco made the mistake of licking it.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

"What. _The fuck_?!" Harry yelled, bolting upright and grabbing his semi-hard cock. A bit tipsy, the dark-haired man's eyes shot down to his dick, then went to the staring cat. "You little pervert!" he said.

_Meow_.

Lying back down, Harry couldn't help but chuckle—then he started stroking himself. "Well, as long as I'm almost there," he said, his hand moving with more purpose now. "Oh. Yeah," he groaned out as he worked himself roughly, bringing himself off quickly, come shooting out and covering his bare chest.

For a short time, Harry lay there contentedly, but then the puddle on his chest started to get cold. Waving a hand, he wandlessly Vanished his mess, then looked at the cat staring at him.

"No more of that little kitty," Harry admonished. "That little tongue of yours is scratchy and...I'm not into animals."

_Meow_.

Smiling, Harry pushed his cock back inside his pants, then adjusted himself and got under the covers. "Bed time, pretty kitty," he said.

Morning came quickly and Harry was a bit surprised to find himself at the Leaky Cauldron and not at the Burrow. Surprised, but not upset in any way. And happy when he remembered the cute white cat he'd picked up. Too bad he couldn't keep him.

Throwing on a shirt and a pair of demins, then slipping on his trainers, Harry spoke to the cat—as if he were a human. "Be right back with some pub grub, pretty boy," he said.

_Meow_.

Running downstairs, Harry managed to get more of what the cat had eaten the night before—he'd clearly liked it—and some breakfast for himself, then he was back up in the room.

Smiling, Harry put the food on the chest of drawers and picked up the cat. "You hungry, little guy?" he asked, setting the cat next to the food. "I'm leaving today, so eat up. _Hey_! Not my bacon."

Sitting down on the bed with his plate, Harry nibbled on his bacon and watched the cat eat.

"I wish you had a collar, so I knew your name," Harry said, thinking that every creature should have a name. "And to whom you belong. Someone must be missing you very much."

_MEOW_.

Harry chuckled. "That almost sounded like an admonishment. No owner then," he said.

The cat meowed again, then jumped onto the bed to curl up beside the man.

"Do you like being a cat, little guy?" Harry asked next—causing the cat's little head to come up. "Seems like it could be a nice life. I wish I was a cat and not Harry bloody Potter."

_Meow_.

"Yeah, I know, life is hard," Harry said, sighing out a long breath.

After showering again, Harry packed his things and shrunk his bag down, then looked at the cat. He'd opened the door to leave, but the cat was lying on the bed as if he weren't going anywhere.

"Come on, little guy, I have to go now."

_Meow_.

Frowning, Harry watched the cat jump down off the bed, but go over to the window instead.

"What is it?" Harry asked, going to the window and looking out. "There's nothing out there."

Unsure, the dark-haired man unlatched and opened the window and...that was it...the cat was gone. Leaning out, Harry watched him scamper away—and wished _he_ was a cat too, so he could just disappear.


	2. Part 2

**Chapter Six**

It had been a year since Draco's night at the Leaky Cauldron with Harry Potter, but he'd not forgotten it. If truth be told, he could hardly _stop_ thinking about it. In fact, even though their encounter was mostly innocent, Draco knew that it was a night he'd _never_ forget, that it would go down as one of his best nights ever.

But he was still a cat and had adapted to it as best he could, under the circumstances, but...well...he was so _very_ tired of cat sex. Only twice during the year's time had he had sex with another male cat, because, first, it was hard to find an interested male cat who would dominate Draco—or let Draco dominate him—and second, there was _definitely_ something wrong with the penis of a cat...sex was excruciatingly painful! After the two experiences, Draco had only gone after females.

But he didn't _like_ females—not human females and not those of the feline variety—so he was quite frustrated. There was just a time when a man needed a cock up his arse and, by Salazar, this was one of those times!

And so he was out scouting, looking for a willing male—but having no success. Part of him was glad for this, because he remembered the pain of it all too well, but...yeah.

After several days of looking and trying, Draco had all but given up—and then he found himself in an alley with the most adorable black cat he'd ever seen.

_Meow_, he let out when it looked like the other cat hadn't noticed him.

Immediately their eyes connected and, oh _Merlin_, the black cat had the prettiest green eyes Draco had ever seen. But he was afraid to approach him, for fear the black would run off, uninterested in Draco's advances.

But it was the black who started in his direction first—and quickly—until they were in contact and innocently rubbing themselves up against one another and purring with pleasure.

Excited beyond measure, Draco still tried to keep himself in check. Reaching up with a paw, he swatted—claws retracted, of course—at his new friend, catching the side of his head playfully, then rolling onto his back when the black returned the favor.

They wrestled like this for a while, exchanging positions and sharing dominance—until Draco couldn't take it anymore. Filled with lust, he flipped himself over, lifted and swished his tail out of the way to give the black better access, and then backed into the other cat.

_Come on, green eyes_, Draco thought, _meow't me_.

For some reason Draco wasn't scared. He knew it would hurt, but he was so in need that he didn't care.

But something odd happened when the black cat actually did mount him. The black's paws curled around Draco's kitty hips and pulled him close, then he thrust forward and into him—and there was no pain. In fact, it felt so grand that Draco could hardly move. His legs felt numb.

And then he felt something curl around his cock and stroke him. But still he did not notice that something was off, because he was so into the sensations he was feeling. It was brilliant!

And then he heard himself moan. Moan like he once had, before he'd been turned into a cat. And a groan sounded from behind him as he was repeatedly—and joyously—rammed from behind. And then both he and the black were shuddering their climaxes and shouting out their pleasure.

"Oh my _fucking_ Godric!" the black burst, falling backward onto the ground of the dirty alley, pulling Draco with him.

Draco allowed himself to be pulled, but immediately scrambled away and looked at the man lying sprawled next to him. "_POTTER_!" he bellowed. "What. The. Fuck?!"

Breathing heavily, Potter looked up at him and frowned. "_Malfoy_?" he queried.

Draco threw his arms up and glared. "Well, obviously!" he snapped.

"_You're_ the cute little white cat I couldn't stop thinking about?"

Not thinking the question required a response, the blond just stared at him.

"Wait a second," Potter said. "If you're the white cat, then...you can't be _too_ upset that I just fucked you. You had your own fun a year ago, playing with and then licking my cock...then watching me wank."

Draco blushed. In his shock of realizing he'd just had Harry Potter's dick up his arse, he'd forgotten that he'd actually been fantasizing about it being there.

"Still, I didn't know it was you. Now, I mean," he said.

Potter nodded. "I'll admit it's...shocking." Then his eyes traveled over Draco's naked body. "Um. We should change back and go somewhere else."

Draco felt the color drain from his face—and body. "I...I don't know how."

Potter frowned. "I don't understand. You just Transfigured right here in front of me...literally."

"Could we skips the cracks about me being on my knees for you, Potter?!" Draco snapped. "And...I'm not an Animagus. Someone cursed me into that form. I haven't been human for just over a year now. In fact, the day you walked into the Leaky Cauldron and found me was my first day as a cat."

Potter's eyes went wide. "Oh."

"Yes. Oh!" Draco snarled. "So I'm stuck here..._naked_!

"Well...um...I _am_ an Animagus, so I'll just change, then run up to my room."

Draco frowned. "Can't you just Apparate us?"

"Don't have my wand."

"I've seen you do wandless magic, Potter," Draco argued, vividly remembering the other man Vanish his own release from his chest.

"Yes, but I'm shite at Apparating wandlessly," Potter said. "Would you like to tempt a splinching?"

Taking a _very_ deep breath, Draco shook his head. "All right. Go on then," he said, giving Potter a wave to get him to go. "Hurry back for me."

"Your wish is my command, Pretty Kitty," the dark-haired man said, then quickly shifted into this Animagus cat form and ran off, leaving a very anxious Draco, naked in an alley, somewhere in London.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

It wasn't much later that Harry went back to the alley in which Draco Malfoy was hiding. When he returned he almost thought the other man had run off. But that wasn't the case.

"_Draco_?" he called out quietly when he didn't see him right away.

"What took you so long, Potter?" said the blond, coming out from behind someone's rubbish bins.

Harry rolled his eyes and held out the clothing he'd brought for the other man. "You're welcome."

"Much obliged, Potter," the gray-eyed man said as he stepped into Harry's denims. They were perhaps a half an inch shorter than his own, but would do for now.

"Do you think we could graduate to given names, now that we've had sex?" Harry asked, causing the blond to sigh deeply again, then shrug.

"Sure. Fine. _Harry_."

Harry grinned. "Brilliant!"

"I don't know what you're so happy about, _Harry_, it's not like we're boyfriends or anything," Draco said, pulling the shirt he'd been given over his head and covering his pale chest, then glaring.

Harry frowned. "Why not? I've been thinking about you...er...kitty-cat you, ever since we spent that night together. I think we could be good together, Draco."

The blond scoffed. "One nice _very_ anonymous night and a good fucking in an alley does not a relationship make, Potter."

"It's a start," Harry argued. "I've been thoroughly depressed since the war ended. Was having nightmares constantly. Even left all my friends to strike out on my own. But now I'm excited about things again. And it was _you_ who gave me the idea to become an Animagus. Took nine months of trying. I didn't even care what form I took, but now I'm grateful that it was a cat...or I'd never have found you again. It was like..._fate_!"

Rolling his eyes, Draco stuffed his feet into Harry's shoes—they were a tad wide on his narrow feet, but also a bit short—then knelt to tie them. "Potter—"

"_Harry_," the green-eyed man corrected.

"Harry. We've never gotten along. What makes you think we could do it now?"

Harry shrugged. "We have to try...or we might miss out on something wonderful. Something great."

"You are _such_ a Gryffindor!" the blond said, as if that were a bad thing. "Not everything is all sunshine and rainbows, you know."

"I know," Harry said, smiling. "But, I want this. To try, at least. Where's the harm in trying?"

The blond frowned. "What if we fail?"

"Then we fail. At least we'll know we tried."

On his feet again—happy to be a human and in clothing, even if they were Harry Potter's—Draco Malfoy looked the dark-haired man up and down. "You _are_ rather cute."

Harry face split into a wide grin.

"In a sort of stupidly dorky way," Draco said as he closed the distance between himself and Harry, then stopped abruptly in front of him.

"_Hey_!" Harry burst. "Are you _trying_ to fail right from the off?"

"I'm not going to change, Potter. I've always been a bit of an arse."

"A bit?" Harry asked, slipping his arms around Draco Malfoy's narrow waist and pulling him to his chest. "That's _a bit_ of an understatement, isn't it?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Now who's pushing the failure envelope?"

"Pfft! We'll have our disagreements, that's for sure," said Harry. "We have to work through them, not avoid them completely, yeah?"

Draco gave a clipped nod. "Agreed."

Leaning in, Harry took Draco's lips and nibbled on them, then pushed forward for a proper snog, only stopping when they were both breathless. "First kiss," Harry whispered, then sighed.

Draco grinned. "Now, take me back to yours and make me yours," he said, turning and pulling at Harry to make him move.

Harry's eyes lit up. "Like, _mine_ mine? Can I get you a collar with an ownership tag...and a cute little bell, so I know when you're coming?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Stop fucking around, Potter."

"I thought that's what you _wanted_ me to do," Harry said, latching his mouth onto the blond's neck as they walked out of the alley.

"Yes, it is, but...not here. Not again."

"It was fun though, yeah?"

Smirking, Draco answered by pressing his lips to Harry's again.

"So, we're going to do this?" Harry asked between kisses.

"We're certainly going to _try_."

"Well, that's all I can ask."

And they both tried—very hard—and thankfully succeeded. And eventually they both found the courage to return home to their family and friends. Draco's family wasn't overly pleased about the union, but then, neither were a lot of people. But Draco and Harry were now living for themselves and weren't going to let a few doubting souls ruin things for them. And eventually everyone backed off and let them have what they wanted...and that was each other. Things weren't perfect. Sometimes they were downright hard. But they managed to muddle through. They even used their cat forms sometimes, just for fun. Yes, Draco figured out that he _was_ an Animagus, but that he'd needed the right inspiration, which turned out to be Harry Potter. So, in the end, _all was well_.

**The End**

* * *

This is it...just a short wrap up of the first posting. There will NOT be more to this story. No, you can't make me continue. You CAN'T!


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